


One Step Closer, One Fall Apart

by DeathOfABacheLarrY



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff, High School AU, M/M, Ziam Mayne - Freeform, nice little one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathOfABacheLarrY/pseuds/DeathOfABacheLarrY
Summary: A little something for those of you who want to dip your pinky toe into Ziam. Just a splash tbh. No one's probably going to see this but this oneshot is basically just a mildly fluffy high school au no one asked for. Love y'all. Please read below for notes. hOly shit thank you for thank you for 100 hits.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	One Step Closer, One Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a narrative assignment given to my class for my English course. The first, third, and fifth paragraphs are reality, while the paragraphs that begin after an elipses are Liam's daydreams. I've switched the names to be Liam Malik and Zayn Payne as to not arouse too much suspicion from my teacher, so when the name Malik is referred to, it's actually Liam.

“-And so the British were then forced to evacuate seeing as the Germans were slowly winning and advancing upon them. Had they not-”  
How Liam wished he hadn’t taken European History as a class as he listened to the teacher drone on and on about the battle of Dunkirk. It was a gloomy, downcast day. The clouds wrestled the wind while the trees bent forward as if giving way to the looming suspense of the victorious squadron. He glanced toward the lad, sitting in the corner on the other side of the room, his honey-golden eyes covered by a hood. Hastily shifting his eyes back to the window, he sighed quietly, willing this downcast day to be over...

...The stench of flesh and salt hit his nostrils with a force, a salty bitterness on his tongue as he waited for the next boat to arrive. The British army retreated, as Germany slowly advanced, exterminating them with ease. His soggy life jacket clung to his stiff, course uniform. The tide was incoming, slowly lapping away at the beach sand,with arms slowly dragging the empty, ragdoll-like men into its clutches. The remaining soldiers panicked, their hoarse shouts peppered the crisp air and their voices crackled like droplets of oil on a hot pan. The cries of half-dead troopers rang through the silent beach as their gaping wounds marinated in the salty brine of the sea.  
“Malik! Any lifeboats in sight? If they don’t arrive soon, we might as well dig our own graves ‘ere.There’s only so many of us still alive anyways.”   
The brown-eyed lad shook his head, “The last rescue boats should be arriving. They can’t lose us, they have to keep any remaining soldiers.”  
“Boat reaching deck! Gather up all surviving men. Boat reaching deck!”  
The cry rang out as the rumbling of an aircraft neared the island and it’s current inhabitants. A Heinkel 111, signifying the death bomb ticking down seconds. Jumping into action, Liam struck his leg out, briefly forgetting about the violently grenade-blasted gash on it. He ran for his life, one final mad dash in hopes of surviving this sandy graveyard. He stooped down briefly, grabbing two other wounded and dazed survivors as bullets pelted down from above. The metal torrent exploded sand around him, zing-ing little flashes of death. He never looked back as he stomped through the mucky sand and lone, rotting limbs disembarked from their owners. The boat a little way from the dock, his pants now heavier with the tugging weight of the water as he began wading through the carmine stained shore with much difficulty. Just a bit more. He couldn’t let them down, not when he had the lives of two beings in his hands…

… “Mr. Malik, Mr. Malik! Are you listening?” He jolted up, his lap disturbingly wet.   
“Mr. Malik, you seem to have a problem there-''   
The teacher’s voice mixed in with the snickers of the class as Liam realised that he had knocked his water bottle over onto his pants. He blushed a faint crimson as he rushed to the bathroom to try and clean the mess up. He snuck back out as the first bell rang and the hallway filled with the entire student body, chattering away like an immense flock of birds. Merging effortlessly into the large crowd, he began his long trek towards the west wing of the school for Maths. As he ambled through the hallways, a certain figure caught his eye. It was easy to distinguish him, even with his head bent down and back slouching.  
“Many flammable and combustible liquids and solids are explosive, they evaporate quickly and are constantly giving off vapours. The rate of evaporation varies greatly from one liquid to another and increases with temperature-”   
He could hear the teacher audibly talk about flammable substances in the nearby chemistry classroom as he sped up to try and catch up to Zayn. He smiled briefly, he had been so excited to learn about that subject. From a young age, he aspired to be a firefighter. The concept of saving people and making the world a better place sounded so heroic to him. More heroic than he ever will amount to.  
“-an increase in temperature creates a more hazardous condition because of the increase in the rate at which vapours are evolved…” 

...“More water over here, charge those hoses, class E! This is a class E!”   
The fire officer barked out in the distance, voice slightly cracking from the feverishness of the heat.   
“Horan, Malik. You’re part of the hot spotting, go with the rest of them.” Liam nodded briefly and charged forward, no time to wipe the soot clinging onto his face as the stuffy air pressed down on him.   
“I’m going to need a few more charged hoses in this area, come on!” He yelled at the frantic firefighters. Trees were collapsing all around, falling under the orange tinted sky. The intense flames painted with slashes of hot white, undiminishing under the jets of water sprayed onto them. He could barely breathe, footsteps becoming heavier as his mind clouded with smoke. Birds cawed as they desperately tried to escape their burning homes. Some flying off, some not so lucky. The thick smoke made his eyes water intensely, his hands tired from gripping the heavy hose as he aimed it towards a burning section. He whipped around once another had taken his place, charging back towards the truck for more aid. A muffled meow, just above a whisper, somehow managed to snatch the tired lad’s attention. He did a double take, the markings on the frantic cat were different from that of a common household pet.  
“Holy- that’s a Scottish Wildcat!” He slowly began to lose his remaining composure as he watched the critter cry out, the flames around it becoming more unsettling. He didn’t want to let the endangered English feline burn alive. A few other uniformed men rushed past him, “Malik! What are you doing? Those trees are ‘bout to collapse ‘round you!”  
His conscience screamed at him to return and get more assistance, to leave it.  
“-Quick, the fire is passing the boundaries we put up. Call in more help, we’re going to need to get this area knocked down quickly,” Officer Tomlinson sounded frantic, the molten fire surrounding remaining trees. A shriek of pain as a less uniformed fighter fell down sent Liam into auto-pilot, he shot up out of his crouching position and grabbed a nearby hose out of an officer’s grasp, aiming it at the vibrant flames. The snapping sound of roots giving way started a chain of colossal damage, tree after tree like dominoes. His hose sputtered, a tongue woefully without words and expression, losing the remaining charge and thus, ending its life. Now he had no choice but to run, clomping back towards the truck for more supplies. The beating of his heart, an agitated metronome in the endless fiery symphony being conducted. The heat started to make him faint, nose and mouth clogged with foul ash. Scrambling past men shouting and water diminishing. Flames swelling and bursting and ashes falling down like confetti, an abandoned birthday party in all its glory. He heard a panic-stricken mewl, a white flag of surrender. Knowing he couldn’t leave it behind, he bent down onto his knees and began trying to coax and calm it down enough to grasp it. The timid creature looked up at him, once golden eyes now a dull flaxen.  
“Malik! Watch out, there’s a burning tree about to fall, CLEAR. CLEAR!”   
Liam looked up, still clutching the animal tightly. A tree donning a rich orange suit of blaze was slowly toppling over, resting gracefully after it’s last dance. And oh what luck he had, for the Thuja to choose him for its deathbed. He looked down at the wee honey-eyed feline in his arms, bracing for the impact that would set him aflame...

  
...A jolt of pain rang through his forehead, his hand darting up to rub it.  
“Oh oops, sorry mate didn’t mean it,” The voice was soft, as if the throat were delicately crafted by sculptors. He looked up at those ginger-butterscotch eyes and grinned awkwardly, “Hey, you’re Zayn right?” The latter nodded, “The one and only.” An unsure silence ensued, neither knowing what was best to say after one rams their head into another’s locker.  
“So, what class do you have next?” Liam winced, did he seriously just ask  
that question out loud? The fellow just chuckled softly, “Physical education, don’t you have it too?”   
“Oh- oh yeah, I do.” He stuttered, mentally cursing himself for being embarrassing. The lad turned, a trace of a smile still on his face. “Then we can walk together, I heard we’re doing dodgeball today.” Liam nodded dreamily, following him like a lost puppy. Cannonballs, gleaming swords and blustery waves already luring him back.

“-And so the dodgeball is to be thrown like a bomb, hard and fast. Dodge the incoming ones like they’re your enemies-” The coach was droning on and on about the rules of dodgeball and oh, how Liam wished he had a longer gym class.  



End file.
